The Witching Hour
by ArcticJacs
Summary: Morgan isn't sure about a lot of things. She knows she doesn't want to be a bartender forever, but it seems like it's the only thing she's good at. She doesn't know what to do about her powers, or how to keep them a secret. And she certainly has no idea what to do with that certain pesky (sexy?) professor who claims that she can help them, that she can finally make a difference.
1. Chapter 1

_Hey guys! So I had this class this semester and one of the assignments was to choose a topic and create a blog. I chose film for it, and my first blog post was on Logan and the End of Heroism. Halfway through the post I started thinking about this story, and I decided that maybe I should try rewriting it. So here it goes, a full rewrite. I hope you like it!_

 _Also, thanks to all of you who didn't give up on this story, and all the wonderful reviews. You are all amazing people._

 _I might post the link to my blog on my profile in case you're interested. I had a great time with it!_

 _Enjoy._

* * *

The first time I slipped into the shadows, I was ten.

Quite literally slipped.

It was a late February afternoon, and though the snow had been scraped away from the playground for us to play in, we still had to tread carefully. Or so we were told, at least. We were ten, our heads just a few feet away from the ground, and falling didn't quite hurt as much.

It had been a while since the nuns had let us out to play. We'd had a few snowstorms the last couple of weeks, the howling wind lulling us to sleep at night but keeping us in during the day. It hadn't been that bad, except for that one night when the power went out. We played hide and seek, trying to convince ourselves that the darkness was exciting rather than absolutely terrifying. That night they gave us extra blankets, and we fell asleep to the sound of Father Joaquin reading us a story of a brave mouse that fell in love with a princess, and how he fought tooth and nail to save her.

But as I ran through the playground, ducking to avoid the swings, the story of Despereaux, the mouse that fell for the princess, was but a distant memory. We were playing tag, and I could hear the other kids' peals of laughter as everyone fumbled around the snow trying to get away from Matt, who had been _it_ for an embarrassing amount of time.

I paused behind Matt, breathing hard, but safe. That is, until he turned around and spotted me.

"Run Morgan!" Mia yelled, safe from the top of the monkey bars.

I didn't need to be told twice. I took off, knowing that I had to find a way to lose Matt before he got to me. And he would. He was faster. And highly motivated.

My eyes narrowed on the second set of swings at the far side of the playground. It was getting pretty late, and the yellow swings were barely visible. We probably only had a few more minutes of playtime before they called us in. But, until then, I could hide in the dark.

It wasn't until I was halfway there that I realized that the swings weren't empty. Cassie sat in one of them, her feet planted firmly on the ground and her eyes focused on me. She looked expectant, like she was waiting for something. For me.

Cassie was strange. She was older than most of us, fourteen or so. She had big blue eyes, which at first used to annoy me. Blue was my favorite color, and mine were boring old brown. But hers were _weird._ She stared at us, but she wasn't looking. She was lost in her own little world, as I once heard Father Joaquin say. She looked like it. She almost never played with us, and when she did, somebody usually got hurt. She never actually did anything, but she was always _there._ A small disappointing frown as she watched our lives play out.

If you asked me, it's like she always knew what was coming. One time, on Tim's birthday, she told us not to eat the cake. It was chocolate, we were nine year olds, so _of course_ we ate it. We all got sick that night, and she was the only one who didn't. She had just stared at us, shaking her head in frustration as we stuffed our faces with chocolaty goodness. We should've listened.

Now, as I ran in her direction, her big blue stare made me nervous enough that I didn't notice the frozen puddle. It wasn't until I stepped on it, and the brief spurt of panic that told me I had done something wrong overwhelmed me, that I noticed. My hands automatically went up to protect my head, but my eyes were still on Cassie and the gloom that surrounded the swings as I fell.

Except I didn't fall. The shadows swallowed me whole.

The first time I fell into the shadows was so fast that I barely noticed. In one blink I was falling, the next, it was dark, and not a moment later, I was stumbling to my knees, my nose an inch away from jean-clad legs. Cassie looked down at me, one of her hands coming down to rest on top of my head as I blinked up at her, completely and utterly bewildered.

But she was smiling. "Don't worry Morgan," she said. "You'll get the hang of it."

She paused, cocking her head as she considered her own words.

"Eventually."


	2. Chapter 2

It was one of those nights. The good kind.

The clientele was mostly made up of the usual ones, and, unusually enough, they were all behaving. Even old Gerard Healey, who typically itched for a brawl. Everybody sipped their drinks, smiled, chatted, and nodded their goodbye's as they slipped the tip across the bar.

Marv's Bar was well known for its unpredictability. Some nights ended with half of the customers bloody, bruised, and grinning; and Marv not too worried – he loved the fights. Other nights, like this one, left the bartenders in a good mood and somewhat wealthier.

The door opened, letting in a much-needed draft of cold air, and two more shadows slipped in. Charlie and Gretchen Gillies waved as they saw me before making their way to the far corner, where the other people from their group waited.

The sound of glass clinking as it was placed back on the bar drew back my attention, and I turned back to the most interesting customer so far. He sat at the far end of the bar, strong fingers playing with an unlit cigar. Even sitting down, I could tell he was tall. He wore dark brown hair, sideburns, a short beard, and a permanent scowl. For the life of me, I couldn't tell how old he was. Early thirties? Late forties? No idea. I'd never seen him before.

I approached him, wiping my hands off with a rag. By this time of the night, the bar lived in a constant state of stickiness. The other bartender, Joel, spilled more than he served. But he was Marv's nephew, and therefore, blameless.

"Another one?" I asked, taking the now empty glass and putting it in the plastic box for washing later.

His eyes flickered up from the cigar, meeting mine. Light brown eyes. Nothing exceptional. But just as the last two times he'd ordered his drink, something in them made me glad of the sticky bar between us. I did not want to get on this man's bad side.

Unlike the last two times, however, he leaned back on the stool, and this time his eyes quickly ran over my own frame. My skin prickled with awareness. It didn't feel like he was checking me out. More like… like he was finally taking me in. Like I hadn't even registered in his radar until then.

I blinked back, feeling the sudden hushed moment become a second too long. By the time the sides of his mouth twitched upwards, I could only be glad he found me amusing if nothing else.

"Make it a double." He said, his voice low and rough, almost like a growl.

I nodded, picking up a new glass. He was a scotch person, and I approved. And better yet, he liked it neat. Those were my favorite kinds of customers. The easy kind. And they were usually good tippers. Not like the mojito people.

Don't get me started on those.

"There ya go," I said, sliding the glass across the bar.

He took a sip. "You got a light, by any chance?"

I glanced at the unlit cigar. "Give me a second."

I reached under the bar, looking for the little boxes of matches Marv liked to give out to the customers. There weren't many left, but I found one hidden at the back. I winced as my fingers came back dusty, and decided that I´d have to talk Joel into cleaning it.

His thanks came out more like a grunt, and with a slight twitch of my lips, I nodded back in response. Another figure approached the bar, blonde locks framing a delicate face, and eyes that didn´t quite meet my own.

"Have a good one, Morgan." Julie Rice smiled, leaving a ten-dollar bill next to her empty glass.

"Thank you." I smiled back. "You too."

When I looked back, the stranger was watching at me. I lingered, waiting to see if he would take the bait.

He did.

"They all seem to know you pretty well."

I shrugged, taking Julie's empty glass. "I've been their bartender for a while now."

My eyes involuntarily landed on one of the lone men in the bar. He was playing with his empty glass, eyes fixed on his watch. I glanced back at the stranger, and found I couldn't resist.

I leaned forward, daring to place my elbows on the sticky bar. The stranger raised an eyebrow.

"You see that man?" I asked, lowering my voice. "Right next to the jukebox."

His eyes slid to his right, before looking back. "Yeah?"

"That's Lucas Brandt. In exactly four minutes, he's going to get up, leave a twenty on the bar, and walk right out."

The stranger puffed out a cloud of smoke. "How´d you know?"

I grinned. "It's what he always does. Him and Julie, the blonde woman that just left?" he nodded. "Yeah, they're secretly together."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why is it a secret?"

"Julie used to be married to Lucas' cousin. Split up a few years ago, but…" I shrugged. "I guess it's still weird."

He wasn't quite smiling, but his scowl wasn't as prominent.

Joel walked up to me at the other side of the bar. "Six tequila shots."

I raised my eyebrows.

He rolled his eyes. "Please? The Gilles twins are celebrating who knows what."

"You know," I said, sighing but reaching for the tequila. "You're also a bartender. I think you can manage serving up tequila shots, if nothing else."

He glowered. "Morgan."

I handed him the shots, neatly placed on a small tray. "Joel."

He graced me with another roll of his eyes before taking off with the tray.

I glanced back at the stranger, but his eyes were on Lucas. I grabbed my rag, wiping of my hands clean as I watched the man finally get up from his table, approach the bar, leave his usual twenty, nod at me, and then leave through the door. Exactly four minutes had passed.

I took the money, directing a grin at the stranger. "See?"

He acknowledged with a grunt.

I watched him for another moment, noticing how the muscles in his arm worked. This guy packed some serious strength.

I wondered if he would become a regular. I found myself hoping that he would.

"I'm Morgan." I finally said.

He paused, looking at me like he was deliberating whether I was worth the trouble of responding. "Logan."

I nodded, satisfied. It fit him. "What brings you here, Logan?"

He raised an eyebrow, exhaling the smoke from the cigar as his hand played with his glass. "Scotch."

I took the hint. So I shrugged. Good enough.

The bar phone rang, cutting through the music. I reached over, taking the handset and leaning my back against the bar.

"Marv's Bar." I greeted.

"Morgan. It's me." Cassie.

"Hey! You gotta be quick, I have like a minute before Joel notices."

"I know. But I saw something."

I swallowed, threading my free hand through the phone's curled chord. Cassie didn't get visions of the future often these days. When she did… well I usually worried. A lot.

"Oh." My voice softened. "What was it?"

"You met Logan already?"

I blinked, my eyes finding the man in question across the bar. "Yeah. He's here."

A pause. She hesitated. When she spoke, she sounded unsure. "Two more are coming. I think you should hear them out."

"Two more what? Custumers?"

Another hesitation. I was getting more worried.

"Cass? Come on, talk to me."

"Yes. Two more," she exhaled. It almost sounded like a laugh. "Two more custumers."

I bit my lip, unease slowly spreading through my body. "Alright I'll play the friendly bartender tonight. Anything else? Should I be worried?"

"No, no. I think, I think this is the right step. You'll be fine. But you need to go now. You don't want to miss them."

I clutched the phone tighter to my ear. "Cassie you aren't telling me something."

A short laugh. "You know I don't always tell you everything. Ruins the surprise."

I sighed. "Alright, I'll go. Thanks for the cryptic warning. Say hi to the little nugget, yeah?"

"She fell asleep listening to the radio, but I'll tell her in the morning. Now go."

She hung up before I could reply in typical Cassie fashion. So I sighed, ran my hands over the dirty rag that hung from my waist, and made my way back to the bar.

She hung up before I could reply in typical Cassie fashion. So I sighed, ran my hands over the dirty rag that hung from my waist, and turned back to the bar.

Joel was fiddling with the soda machine, but his eyes were on me. He hated it when I used the phone. "You-"

"Customer asking our address." I interrupted.

He rolled his eyes, but wandered off with an empty tray.

I found myself glancing at Logan, wondering why exactly my meeting him was important enough for Cassie's vision. He almost blended into the bar's décor, all rough around the edges and gruff attitude.

I was teared from my thoughts as Brandon Miller approached the bar. He asked for a beer. One of the bottled ones. I reached under the counter, smiling at Brandon as I used the bottle opener.

"Great night, ain't it?" He drawled, taking the bottle.

"So far, so good."

It's like I jinxed it.

The door opened again, and two new figures stepped through the doorway. Two men, one in a brown leather jacket and one in a nice grey suit without a tie. I stood up a little straighter, watching them wearily. I wasn't sure what it was that drew my immediate attention, but I suddenly had the feeling that whatever the reason those two men had for being in the bar, it was definitely not beers. They walked in, striding way too purposefully to be casual clientele. In an almost rehearsed move, they stepped up to the bar, one on each side of Logan. I leaned my hip against the far side of the bar and watched, concerned.

Cassie's warning rang through my head. They must be the two customers she'd mentioned.

"Hey Morgan, pass me the rum?" Joel asked, leaning over the bar from the customers´ side.

I ignored him, trying to listen in to the other conversation despite the music.

Leather jacket spoke first. "Excuse me, I'm Erik Lehnsherr."

"Charles Xavier."

"Yo, Morgan." I waved Joel off, shushing him.

Logan didn´t even look up from his cigar before downing his drink in one gulp. "Go fuck yourselves."

I let out a surprised snort.

"My God, Morgan. Least you could do is move out of –"

The tell-tale sound of a bottle clinking and Joel's sluggish scramble came a second too late. I reached for the bottle of rum – one of our most expensive ones – just as it was slipping through Joel´s clumsy fingers. I watched in horror as my own fingers missed the bottle. Those were four hundred dollars that would come out of my own pocket. Money I didn´t have.

The cool rush slipped over my feet. And for a brief, fleeting second, the shadows molded and thickened, cradling the bottle and suspending it in space just for a second too long. Long enough for my fingers to grasp the bottle by the neck.

I exhaled a breath of release, straightening and plastering a smile over my face as I turned to face the other bartender.

"That was a close one Joel," I said, letting the shadows dissipate underneath the bar.

He snorted reaching for the bottle. "You should be more careful next time."

I rolled my eyes at the man and reached out for my rag, wiping off my sudden sweaty hands. I glanced back towards Logan.

And stopped in my tracks.

The man in the grey suit was staring at me. Right at me. And the way those striking blue eyes bored into me – he _knew._ He'd seen me.

 _Shit._


	3. Chapter 3

_Hey guys! I wanna thank you for all those awesome reviews. And thank you for reminding me about that pesky phone situation, embarrassingly enough I'd forgotten about the time period. Oops. But I went back and fixed it!_

 _Let me know what you think!_

 _Enjoy._

* * *

I turned around with a start, giving the three men my back, and tried to force air back into my lungs. My mouth was suddenly too dry. My hands were sweating again.

I had to calm down. Think logically. There was no way he´d seen me. The bar was already dark enough. And it'd happened too fast. There was just no way. I did that sometimes – got too paranoid. It was all right.

And even if he'd seen me, and that was a big _if_ , what would he do? He'd think he was crazy. Nothing more. I closed my eyes, exhaled, and forced a bright smile as I heard the sound of stools being dragged back on the other side of the bar.

"Hey, what can I-"

Leather Jacket and Suit were making themselves comfortable on the creaky chairs. Suit's startling blue eyes bored into mine as I stumbled my way around my words.

I cleared my throat. "Uh, what can I get you?"

Leather Jacket leaned his forearms against the bar, and I almost winced at the thought of the nice leather sleeves smearing the sticky alcohol around. I focused on his handsome face, his eyes, a steely blue as opposed to his companion's more vibrant hue. He had dark hair, pale skin, and he had a way of leaning over the bar that made me feel almost self-conscious, which was no small feat. The small area behind the bar was perhaps the only place I felt truly comfortable. He was painstakingly intimidating.

I avoided looking at his companion's face as I waited for his response.

"I guess I'll have a pint. That is, if we're staying here long enough?" he directed the last few words at Suit. His accent washed over my untrained ear, and I wondered where he was from.

His companion was taking too long to reply and, despite myself, my eyes wandered over to him. His brown hair was combed back, but it still curled up at the nape of his neck. He wasn't nearly as daunting as his companion, but some gut instinct put me on guard. His eyes found mine in the dimness of the bar, and I found that in spite of how much I wanted to look away, I couldn't. They seemed to be able to look straight into my head. It was unnerving.

"I think we are," he said, and I pegged him as English. "I'll have a pint as well."

I forced myself to relax, reaching over and grabbing two glasses. I glanced over to the other side of the bar, my eyes catching on Logan's form. His lit cigar smoked from his hand, and he looked down at his drink, seemingly lost in thought. What was the connection between these three men?

Leather jacket spoke up. "Pretty full for a Tuesday."

I shrugged, holding up a glass as I used the other hand to pull down the valve. I watched as the beer quickly filled up the glass, leaning it carefully so it wouldn't fill up with foam. I sneaked a peek at them from the corner of my eyes. The question was innocent enough, but I couldn't quite help but think that innocuous small talk didn't fit a man with cold eyes.

"Pretty standard Tuesday night, I'd say." I tried smiling at him. I'd told Cassie I'd be friendly, that _I'd hear them out_. "There's a small university down the road and we're surrounded by a bunch of offices. Perfect place for a bar. You mustn't be from around here."

A huff. "No. We're not."

His hand drummed on the bar's wood, and he glanced at his companion. Suit nodded back at Leather Jacket, but didn't seem interested in joining in the conversation, seemingly content with just watching me fill up the glass with beer. I looked back down at the beer, and for some reason kept feeling that those eyes saw more that they should have. Maybe he _had_ seen me? Was he wondering about the bottle that had taken a moment too long to fall?

And why would Cassie deem them so important?

I held up the second glass, leaning it to a side, raising my second hand to pull down the valve.

"It's alright," I heard leather jacket say. "I've got this one."

I hesitated, confused. Slowly, as if it had a mind of its own, the heavy beer valve lowered by itself and beer started flowing into the glass. I stared at the valve, flabbergasted.

What _-_

I took an abrupt step back, beer spilling as I stared wide eyed at the machine. The beer stopped flowing, the valve returning to its original place. My eyes snapped over to the two men.

A slight smirk took over leather jacket's face as he met my eyes.

What?

Suit cleared his throat. "Morgan, we need to talk."

Goddammit, I shouldn't have listened to Cassie. Mutants. Two _friggin'_ mutants.

I gritted my teeth. "How do you know my name?" Wouldn't it just be my luck if one of them read minds?

Suit's eyes widened. He looked absolutely stumped.

My lips parted open in surprise. "Goddammit. You do read minds, don't you?"

 _Yes. Yes I do._

His voiced flowed into my head, and I frowned, unused to the invasive feeling. An almost shrill laugh bubbled from my lips. I took another step back.

"Stop that."

Suit leaned back in his chair and I struggled to stay in place. The way his eyes caught in the light, the slightly cocked eyebrow – he looked positively intrigued. All I wanted was to blend back into the shadows.

"Your animosity is slightly undeserved, wouldn't you say?" he asked.

"Is it?" I rasped, leaning my lower back against the other side of the bar. I'd wondered about mind readers before. I'd hoped that mutation wasn't possible. "Wouldn't it stand to reason that a powerful enough telepath could not only change our memories, but control our minds as well?"

An uncomfortable pause. I waited with bated breath.

"I suppose so, yes. Powerful telepaths could be quite dangerous."

The question remained then, was he powerful enough? Suddenly Leather Jacket no longer seemed like the biggest threat.

"Charles," Leather Jacket spoke up, a strange look in his eyes as he looked at his companion. "This isn't the best way to start off this conversation."

Charles let out a sigh. "You're right. Morgan, this is Erik. We're both mutants, just like you. And we have a proposition for you."

Cassie wanted me to hear them out. If she'd had a vision about this, well it meant this was a big turning point. Something big came out of this conversation, and that knowledge scared me to bits.

I ran my hands through my dirty old rag, and sighed. Cassie had never failed me before. As much as the two men unnerved me, my trust in her won out. "Very well. What could I possibly do for a telepath and a beer serving mutant?"

Satisfied they had my attention, the two mutants relaxed in their stools. Charles took a sip of the served beer, his long fingers playing with the glass as he placed it back on the bar. "We are currently working for a government division. Right now, our focus is on finding other mutants."

I blinked, surprised. A government division? An avalanche of questions barreled through my head. There's a division? And they know about us? "What do you need mutants for?" I frowned. "Are they… are they experimenting on us?

It seemed like I hit a spot. Both of their faces immediately darkened, but my eyes were drawn to Erik. A storm raged behind that sneer.

"If they were, they'd be dead."

My heart skipped a beat. The threat sounded jarringly real coming from him.

Charles cleared his throat. "We've been recruiting and organizing a team of young mutants. We're hoping you'd be willing to help us stop another mutant. One with," he paused, "Well let's say he has less than noble intentions."

Erik laughed, but it was completely devoid of any emotion. It sent chills down my spine.

I bit my lip, my eyes jumping between the two men. "And you think I can help? You can't possibly know what I can do."

Charles leaned forward. "I saw you earlier. You can manipulate the shadows. And I bet," his eyes bored into mine. "I bet there's a lot more to it."

Before tonight, I'd been able to count in one hand the amount of people that knew that about me. I fought my immediate urge to deny it.

My voice came out soft. "Something like that."

"You'll be able to work with other mutants and explore the full potential of your abilities. We can help you with that. And," He paused. "We're looking for a dangerous mutant. He needs to be stopped, and we need all the help we can get."

The irrational urge to burst out laughing almost got the better of me. How could I possibly stop another mutant? The idea was ludicrous.

Charles must've seen the humor in my eyes. Or maybe he was reading my mind. Anything seemed possible with those eyes. They were impossibly bright even in the dimness of the bar.

"Morgan!"

Joel's voice finally pulled my attention away from that stare. Those eyes were dangerous, I decided. You could easily drown in them if you weren't careful enough.

I frowned at Joel. "What?"

"Gerard wants another gin and 't'."

Ignoring the two mutants' looks, I reached for the rows of glasses. What had Cassie been _thinking?_ I'd listened to the mutants. They sounded utterly crazy. There was just no way. Absolutely not. There was just no reason for me to put myself in harm's way for two men I didn't even know.

I handed Gerard his gin, walking past Logan's spot. He was gone. The stump from his cigar smoked from the ashtray, and a pretty big tip awaited me as I picked up his remains. Couldn't help but be disappointed that I hadn't been able to say goodbye. There had been a lot more to the man, maybe he'd been a mutant himself.

I reached for my rag as I walked back towards the two men. I wiped my hands off almost methodically before placing them back on the sticky bar, rendering my actions useless, and leaned forward.

I could see it in Charles' eyes that he already knew the answer before I even uttered a word.

"I'm sorry, but no. You have the wrong girl."

Disappointment colored his face. "Anything we can do to change your mind?" he asked.

I shook my head.

Erik was the first to push back the stool and climb to his feet. He took out his wallet and put down a twenty on top of the bar. "Keep the change. Charles, I think we're done with recruiting. We need to find Shaw."

Charles ran a tired hand over his face before extending his hand over the bar. "Alright. Lovely meeting you Morgan."

Hesitantly, I stretched my own hand over the surface. His hand was warm, and the handshake was so soft it was almost as if we were just briefly holding hands.

"Good luck," I said.

Charles smiled, and barely a second later, they were both on their feet and making their way out the door.

I took Erik's twenty, looking down at the crumpled face and frowning. I felt like I was missing something.

 _We need to find Shaw._

Erik's words washed over me like cold water. The phone rang and I rushed over to pick it up, already knowing who it was.

"Shaw." I said instantly. "They're looking for Sebastian Shaw, aren't they?"

Cassie's voice was sluggish, like she had just been woken up. She always knew when she needed to call. "Yeah. Are you going with them?"

I swallowed. "Azazel is still with him." I said, feeling the need to say the words out loud.

"You already know that."

"Goddammit."

I ducked underneath the bar door before I knew what I was doing, pushing past a custumer as I fell into a run. I exploded past the bar's door, spilling into the street just as I saw Charles' head disappear into a taxi on the other side of the road.

A car blared its horn as I tried crossing the street and I swore as I barely avoided being hit. The taxi started to move.

 _NO! Wait!_

Maybe Charles heard me, because a second later the car screeched to a halt. Charles' door was open by the time I reached it. A pair of surprised blue eyes greeted me.

"I'm coming with you," I said between pants. "But you gotta give me a minute. I need to quit my job first."

Charles' mouth inched up into a grin. "Lovely. Welcome to the team."


End file.
